


John's five steps

by Shelby3wonderland2



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anger, Coping with Death, Depression, I only want you back, John Watson feels, M/M, POV John Watson, Sad, Sherlock Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-03-31
Packaged: 2017-12-07 02:28:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/743126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shelby3wonderland2/pseuds/Shelby3wonderland2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It has been five years since Sherlock's supposed death....John starts going through the faces of coping</p>
            </blockquote>





	John's five steps

“FIVE YEARS SINCE THE DEATH OF SHERLOCK HOLMES”

I took in a deep breath, holding back the tears and swallowed. To day was the anniversary of Sherlock’s death. I went through all the stages of coping with death, just like anyone else. Denial, was the hardest to get over. I kept saying over and over that he couldn’t be dead. The Sherlock Holmes? Dead? I…I couldn’t even fathom the idea is I didn’t see him die by falling off the hospital roof top. I cried more than I thought I could ever have, over anybody. Everyday for two months I would go into the kitchen making breakfast thinking he would come any second and deny my food only to eat when I went out of the room. I washed and ironed all of his clothes twice, thinking he would need fresh clothes. 

Anger, I was pissed everyday all day. I was angry over Sherlock and jumping off that building. I was angry at myself for letting him jump off, doing nothing to stop him. I didn’t eat for days punishing myself for it. I Stayed in our ….my apartment for weeks. I couldn’t let any one see the mental wreck I had become. I….I broken with out Sherlock. My Sherlock.

Bartering, had come next. I could of done so many things to stop Sherlock. WHY DIDN’T I? I would scream out. The nightmare only took away from my stability. Time went only slowly. I beg for another chance to go back to that day. To stop Sherlock. I begged I pleated till I lost my voice, but nothing changed. 

Depression, was the worst. I had token Sherlock’s chair and placed a few meters away from the door. I had set there staring at the door. Waiting for him to knock on the door. Asking me to open it, but that never came. I sat and waited, and waited. I would open the door like clockwork every hour and I would spend five minutes staring out of it. Then I would remember what had happened years ago, and slowly close the door.

Acceptance, never happened and never will suppose. Five years and I still wait for him. Long for him to step through the door. I still mess up his clothes on purpose so I can clean them, make sure they are clean and ironed. I slept in his bed on the night I couldn’t cop with his death. I haven’t been on a date, go out of the flat on a proper outing. I stay here, waiting for him to step through the door. Yet I never felt like changing the routine, I feared that changing anything would make it less of a chance he would return.


End file.
